


Domestic Talk

by Sarah_M



Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: F/M, First Date, Humor, Post-Season/Series 08 Finale, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-21
Updated: 2018-09-21
Packaged: 2019-07-15 02:20:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,428
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16053416
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sarah_M/pseuds/Sarah_M
Summary: It’s not Sam Carter’s first visit to Washington - not even close - but it is the first time she’s come to the city for a reason that is utterly non-work related; even if the man she is having dinner with isn’t non-work related. No, everything about her coming to see Jack O’Neill is entirely personal. The fact that she hasn’t booked any accommodation is evidence of that. Admittedly it is a little odd that she got dressed and ready for a first date in the bathroom of the man who would be taking her to dinner. But she figures they’ve always had things a little backwards.





	Domestic Talk

**Author's Note:**

  * For [One_0_One](https://archiveofourown.org/users/One_0_One/gifts).



> A total distraction from what I should be writing and it somehow wound up _very_ silly. Sorry?
> 
> Thanks to my beta who tried her best to read over this while camping - I love your dedication.
> 
> For One_0_One: 'cause I don't think that other fic we talk about is anywhere in sight.

It’s not Sam Carter’s first visit to Washington - not even close - but it is the first time she’s come to the city for a reason that is utterly non-work related; even if the man she is having dinner with isn’t non-work related. No, everything about her coming to see Jack O’Neill is entirely personal. The fact that she hasn’t booked any accommodation is evidence of that. Admittedly it is a little odd that she got dressed and ready for a first date in the bathroom of the man who would be taking her to dinner. But she figures they’ve always had things a little backwards.

She was sure that spending the weekend with him would be stuttered with moments of awkwardness - that the transition in their relationship couldn’t possibly be as smooth as the fantasy in their heads. However she’s surprised at how easy it feels with him. Never has she been so pleased to be wrong.

He looks stupidly sexy in a suit he’s apparently willing to wear for the occasion - which is lucky because he’s picked an impressively elegant restaurant - and she’s wearing a black lace dress that his wandering eyes clearly approve of.

He’s had her giggling the entire evening; maybe too much since they’re on receiving end of a few disapproving glares from the other patrons. She’s spluttered into her wine glass more times than she’d like to admit and once she almost snorted the Shiraz up her nose - which he seems rather smug about (she’s sure he timed it that way). Yes, Jack O’Neill is in perfect control of his charm factor and he knows exactly how far to dial it up when the situation calls for it. But if he keeps it up, she thinks there’s a pretty good chance they’re going to be asked to leave soon.

“Alright, alright; you win - don’t get your panties in a twist,” he concedes their pointless argument, grinning.

Smirking into her wine, she sips at the last of her second glass and mutters, “I couldn’t possibly.”

Watching his expression slacken is priceless.

He stares at her dumbly for a moment. “Sam… are you _not_ wearing underwear right now?”

“Doesn’t go with this outfit,” she says simply - as if that completely explains it.

Swallowing hard, he waits for his brain to catch back up to him. “This place has a pretty strict dress code. I’m sure ‘clothing optional’ doesn’t make up a part of their appropriate attire list.”

“I don’t think they’ll check,” she whispers conspiringly, her voice teasing and her eyes sparkling with mischief.

“Speaking of,” he murmurs and he gestures to one of wait staff, “Cheque please?”

She bites down on her lower lip as she tries to smother her grin at his sudden eagerness to leave. “Aren’t we having dessert?”

“Actually, I _was_ planning on taking a walk with you to grab some ice-cream, but now I’m not so sure it’s a good idea to watch you lick anything.”

 

She loves the way his hand rests gently on the small of her back as they walk out of the restaurant. The way he casually threads his fingers with hers as they head back to his apartment. How it feels natural and practiced - as if it’s something they do all the time. She catches him discreetly glancing down at her ass - trying to work out if she’s serious or not about the underwear. Not that it matters, since they’re going back to his place and she already knows he doesn’t have a guestroom.

When they are in the privacy of his apartment, they stand in front of each other, smiling stupidly with their fingers still entwined. Then his hands slip around her waist, steadying her as he leans down to brush his lips over hers in a tender kiss.

She curls her fingers into the lapels of his jacket and kisses him back, urging him to deepen it. When he obliges and his tongue slips into her mouth, she lets out a sound that’s something between a whimper and a moan. Her arms slink around his neck while she lets him taste and explore her, arching into him when he palms her ass and pulls her against him.

Her teeth tug at his lower lip when he pulls back for a breath, and to ask, “So, you wanna go to bed with me?”

“Is that the best you can do?” She mocks, grinning back at him. Her hands betray her words though, already pushing his jacket from his shoulders, ridding him of it.

“Personally I think that eight years of foreplay is more than enough.” Threading the fingers of one hand through her hair, he tilts her head to the side so he can drop his mouth to her neck. Dragging his lips along the sensitive skin. Nipping at her with his teeth and then soothing her with gentle licks. “But if you still want me to woo you I can,” he murmurs against her pulse point.

She stops yanking his shirt free from his pants to scrape her nails through his hair, delighting in the sensation. “Well that sounds tempting…”

He hums against a sweet spot just below her ear, “Are you sure? It’s a surefire way for me to get into your panties - if you’re wearing any that is.”

“Alright O’Neill, show me what you got.”

“Okay, but remember - you asked for it.” Then he nibbles on her earlobe before tells her huskily against the shell of her ear, “I’m going to talk domestic to you.”

“Dear god,” she sighs with a chuckle, “Should I even ask if you meant _dirty?_ ”

“Nope.” He guides her towards his room and tugs off his tie with her help and then says slowly and gravelly, “I’m going to take you to bed - my bed which has _clean sheets._ And I know they’re clean, because _I washed them_. Because I know how to _do_ _laundry_.”

The tone of his voice would be better geared towards the dirty talk - but instead he’s settled on this topic and it’s kind of hilarious and ridiculous.

“Oh my god, what are you doing?” She groans out, trying to smother her laughter.

He ignores her words and instead encourages her to lie back the moment the backs of her knees hit the edge of his mattress.

“And I _iron_. And I _fold_. I even _vacuum_ and _mop_ ,” he tells her huskily, as his clever fingers skim up her thighs gathering the hem of her dress as he smooths his hands upwards. “And in the morning, after we spend the night making love - or having sex or fucking each others brains out; whatever you want to call it - I’m going to _cook_ _pancakes for you_. And then… I’m going to _wash the dishes_.”

“Gosh that’s really something,” she plays along, feigning over-interest. Then he’s leaning over her, almost covering her with his weight but leaving her enough space that she can work at the buttons on his shirt.

“You see, I’m old, so I’m properly domesticated. And I can tell that you don’t think it’s a turn-on right now but believe me, after a few years you’ll be getting hot for me knowing I can expertly handle a P90 at work and still remember to leave the toilet seat down at home.”

She arches an eye brow in disbelief - because the seat was definitely up when she arrived here.

“Okay, I don’t always remember to - but _I know how to_ ,” he corrects.

She doesn’t miss the part where he said _years_ and her eyes are dancing as he gazes down at her.

“Jack, I appreciate the artful subtlety you use to explain why you’re going to be an excellent partner to live with in our future. However, I am currently more interested in the part of the evening where we finally get to have sex. Now do you think you can stop talking crap, take off your clothes and get me out of this dress?”

“Not working for you huh?”

She shakes her head and he smiles down at her before he meets her mouth again in bruising kiss.

 

In the morning he does make her pancakes for breakfast. While they eat them in bed together, he tells her that he’s deeply impressed that she really wasn’t wearing any underwear for their entire first date - and that he’s also not going to let her live it down.

But she doesn’t mind the teasing.

And she likes the pancakes she didn’t believe he’d be able to cook.

And she definitely, unequivocally, loves him.

 


End file.
